A Chip Off the Old Block
by scaenica
Summary: When Ysabel is sent to Solstheim on behalf of the Thieves Guild, she gets a little more than she bargained for and suddenly finds herself caught up in the middle of a shattered family. Glover Mallory/F!OC. **ON HIATUS**
1. Chapter 1

_[A/N: I started playing around in the Kinkmeme sandbox and this just kind of… happened. Mostly because Glover Mallory does not get enough love. So basically, I'm here to correct that.  
This story takes place in the same universe as 'Evenfall' and 'Home' though way before those events and you don't have to read the other stories to understand this one. You'll see.  
The rating may rise from T to M later on.  
Also, reviews always make me a very happy girl.]_

* * *

**A Chip Off the Old Block**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

She hated this place from the moment she set a foot on the island, from the greyish dust the village – and the rest of Solstheim, as far as she could tell – was covered in, to the unfriendly greeting she had been welcomed with at the docks, to the food that was disgusting even it was not covered in ash like everything else. And no wonder business was slow – there was just not a single fucking thing worth stealing. This place was a mess. Why was the Guild even interested in expanding business here? Unfortunately, it wasn't her decision to make and since she liked her head on her shoulders, not off them, she hadn't even risked the attempt to convince the always disgruntled Guildmaster that they were wasting their time.

Ysabel had been on the island for two hours and already missed Skyrim with her green forests, the clean water and her bulky, brawny inhabitants who might be barbaric and uncivilized but whose upfront and honest nature she now missed dearly. Raven Rock was a garbage dump compared to Skyrim's cities and still everyone around here seemed to have their heads up their arses. She wasn't sure if this was because they were Dunmer or just because they'd been stuck in this living hell for too long.

The Guild didn't have a strong presence on the island. Only a single man – which was a joke, really, especially since he was more of a fence than a thief, and they would need more people with special skills other than _smithing_, if they really wanted to do actual business up here. Mercer had told her she was to find out the reason for the lack of coin flowing from the island, and correct it by all means necessary. _Bloody idiot,_ she thought, shifting uncomfortably in chair, sulkily swaying the bottle with the rest of her drink – which tasted a bit weird but wasn't so bad, though still not good enough to make her forget her bad mood. _Bloody fucking idiot. Sends a single woman to help a single man restore the Guild on a whole island. Like that's fucking possible. _This was Goldenglow Estate all over again. Mercer was just _waiting_ for her to come crawling back after failing miserably. She had, however, proved him wrong back then and she had every intention to do that once more. Just to see the look on his face.

Which was why she'd been sitting here in the Retching Netch at a corner table for the last hour, half-hidden in the shadows, looking as inconspicuous as possible, and kept a wary eye on Glover Mallory. Ysabel had never met the man before but considering he was Delvin's brother, she had been pretty sure what to expect. Still, she'd thought it wise to evaluate the situation before she talked to him. See what the state of affairs around here was. See if he was up to something. From what she could tell that didn't seem to be the case. He didn't seem up to _anything_, neither business nor anything else. From time to time he would exchange a word of greeting with someone but other than that, he just sat at the bar, sipped his drink and stared down at his bottle, obviously brooding over something.

Ysabel wondered briefly what that might be, but really, she didn't care too much. She would discuss business with him in the morning, that should give the man something to distract himself with, and then she could go home and yell at Mercer for sending her to his godsforsaken place.

She probably would just hate him in silence and from a safe distance, though.

* * *

From the way he winced when he turned around, she knew he hadn't noticed her approach the smithy. She knew how not to be seen, but still, for a thief, he wasn't exactly observant of his surroundings… probably lost in thought again. She leaned against one of the wooden columns, arms crossed in front of her chest, and grinned at him from under her hood, blatantly, which obviously irritated him even more. She was wearing a cloak over a simple cotton shirt instead of the Thieves Guild's armor he could recognize. After all, she couldn't let the opportunity of teasing him a little slide by, could she?

After a moment, he regained his composure and turned his attention back to the red-hot iron on the anvil before him. Ysabel herself had no talent at all for the craft of smithery and she watched not without fascination his callous, soiled hands work the metal, hammering down on it, the way he carefully formed it with each blow, the hissing sound when he dipped the weapon into the water basin. If he wasn't good for anything else, of this craft, at least, he was a master.

"Either you're here to buy some equipment", he growled without looking up from his work, "or to get showered in sparks. Out with it."

The thief chuckled amused. So he did have a sense of humor. A very dry one but that was better than nothing. "I'm not here for either of that."

"Then what do you want, girl?"

"Mercer sends me."

Finally, she had his full attention. Glover put down the sword he was working on and turned around again to look at her with flagrant suspicion. "Really. You." She narrowed her eyes at the condescension in his voice. As if she was somehow _inferior _to him, either because she was a lot younger or maybe simply because she was a woman. That seemed to be a good enough reason for a lot of men. Well, in his defense, she was small in height as all Imperials were, and with her muscular but still slender build, she didn't exactly look like she could beat the living daylights out of him. Which, if he was anything like his brother, she was able to do single-handedly.

"Yes. Me. Sorry if I don't live up to your expectations. Here."

She pulled a note from her cloak and handed it to him; he wiped his hands on his apron and took it, breaking the red wax seal with the Guild's mark. "I wasn't expecting anyone, actually", he grumbled while he scanned the note Brynjolf had written for him.

"Yeah, well." Ysabel crossed her arms again. "Business seems to be slow up here, so Mercer sent me to, you know… take a look."

"I'm guessing that weren't his exact words."

"Nah, but I'm not gonna repeat what he said. 'Cause, you know, I'm a lady", she grinned. "Delvin sends his regards, by the way."

"Hm." Glover crumbled the paper in his large hand and shoved it in his pocket. "How's my brother doing?"

"Fine. Still the same pain in the arse as always." She smirked when he snorted approvingly, then became serious again. Enough chit-chat. She had a job to do. "So, why_ is_ business so slow?"

He harrumph again, this time a lot less amused. "Look around you", he said with a vague gesture towards the marketplace. "Can't steal from someone who doesn't own anything. Life around here's been dying down ever since the mine was closed."

"Really." She followed his gesture with wary eyes. "That's interesting." If there was a cause for the lack of wealth around here, there might be a way to… help out. And once business around town was thriving again, their own affairs would be flourishing again as well.

Her fellow thief interrupted her thoughts. "Listen, why don't we talk inside?"

He was right. People were already watching them with growing interest and she didn't want to draw more attention to her doings than necessary. "You're right. I'm Ysabel, by the way."

"The name's Glover Mallory. Pleasure to meet you."

Ysabel chuckled again. "People always say that. Until they actually get to know me."

He flashed a grin and she thought that, while she still didn't _enjoy _her visit, he at least wasn't making this unbearable for her. It could have been a lot worse, really. He could have been like his brother, the slimy bastard. No, now she was doing Delvin injustice. They were getting along pretty well, as long as he could keep his hands to himself. And if he couldn't, she would just have to break his nose again. That usually kept him at bay for a while.

On his way to the door, Glover doffed his blacksmith apron. "I don't have much of a choice, though, do I?"

"Not really, no", she grinned. "For however long it takes to get things going around here, I'm gonna be a pain in _your _arse."

"Guess I've had worse", he grumbled and pushed open the door. She laughed as she followed him inside his home. No, lucky for her, this would indeed not be as bad as she had feared. They would get along just fine.


	2. Chapter 2

_[A/N: Thank you guys so much for your initial reviews, favorites and follows! I'm glad you like Glover as much as I do. He deserves some lovin'. (There's not that much of him in this chapter but don't worry - I have something smutty planned for the next one. *snickers*) And it's a lot of fun writing Ysabel, too.  
Since I'm currently busy with a lot of real life stuff, I won't be able to get much writing done, so unfortunately, chapters will be slow. (If you're reading 'Stormcrow' as well – don't expect a chapter in the near future. I'm hopelessly stuck.)  
But you're not here for my babbling, you're here for a new chapter. Here it is. Have fun!]_

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**A Chip Off the Old Block**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"I have ash in places I didn't even know existed."

Ysabel dropped her bag of loot to the floor of the smithy and rubbed her hand over her forehead, leaving behind a streak of dirt and ash. Exploring the island while she had made her way all the way north to Castle Karstaag had not exactly warmed her up to Solstheim. There was something really weird about this place. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but it left her on edge. As if all those horrible creatures roaming the lands weren't enough.

"Did you get the formula back?"

She rolled her eyes at Glover's expectant tone; he obviously didn't appreciate how much she had suffered for this damn piece of paper. "Of course I did."

"And Tyne?", he asked as he took the rolled paper she took from a pocket of her armor. "Dead." Ysabel made a face. "That reminds me; what are those little ugly-looking things? You know, blue, sharp teeth, spears?"

"Rieklings", he grunted. "Did they kill him? I warned him not go up there."

"Looks like it. He didn't even get past the first cave. I'm telling you, the place is huge. And everything is made of ice. I mean, everything." She giggled slightly to herself while she balanced on one leg to take off a boot and shake it to empty out dirt, ash and some tiny stones that had been stinging the bottom of her foot for the last hours. "Even the locks. Not very effective when you think about it."

"Find something of interest?"

She gestured to her bag. "I did. Why don't you start to go through that while I get cleaned up? I really need to change, I feel like I've been rolling around in the dirt." That might even have been the case when she'd slipped and almost fell off a mountain but she was definitively not going to tell him that.

* * *

When she had scrubbed off the dirt and changed into a new set of clothes, she left her room in the Retching Netch and made her way back outside. On the walk to the smithy, she passed a patrol, exchanged a greeting and a few words with the guards, giving them her most charming smile, inwardly cursing their helmets; she really hated not being able to see someone's face when she was talking to them. It made bewitching them so much harder.

"Chatting up the guards?" Glover looked up only for a moment before he turned his attention back to the grindstone he was sitting at, carefully sharpening a small dagger.

"It's good to have the right friends", she stated matter-of-factly.

Guards were greedy, that was the same anywhere in the world, she had learned. Even more so because they didn't have to climb through windows, crawl through sewers and sting their fingers bloody to train lockpicking; all they had to do was look the other way once in a while. At least her line of work required more skills than loose morals. "Honestly, though, if you want permanent backup out here, we'll have to find someone who doesn't stick out as much as I do. You know. A Dunmer. Not an… ah… 'outlander'."

He shot her a glance before turning his attention to the dagger again. "Someone from here, then?"

"Don't know if that's a good idea in a small community like this." She rubbed her nose absent-mindedly and peered over the market. "I'm going to talk to Bryn and Mercer about it." He hummed approvingly. Ysabel had drawn her swords – two curved Scimitars that wielded a little differently than a normal swords but had proven to be much more handy – casually leaned against a wooden pole and began to clean them when he spoke again.

"You seem to get along well with him."

She stopped in her motion and narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?" Of course, she didn't have to ask which one of the two he meant. She didn't know a single person who didn't get along with Bryn. Every fucking person in the world would get along with Bryn. Mercer, on the other hand, was… well, a very different kind of man.

"Didn't want to suggest anything." Glover continued with his work without even looking at her, his face calm and indifferent as always. Whatever he was thinking about, he didn't seem particularly disturbed by it. "Just that he isn't the most likeable person. You don't seem to have a problem with him, though."

She shrugged and looked back down on her swords. This topic was… complicated, to say the least, and it wasn't something she wanted to discuss in detail, especially not with someone she hardly knew. She wouldn't know what to tell him anyway. Her life would be a lot easier if she herself had a grasp of her relationship with the Guildmaster.

"I can handle him", she said after a while, picked up the cloth and continued to prune the blades of dried blood . "Maybe better than others can. I know worse people, I guess." The only question was why she was telling him all of that. "Honestly, I wouldn't want his job. In his position, I'd be just as sullen all the time. He's barely holding us together. The Guild has seen better days and-"

A loud roar in the distance interrupted her. Her eyes snapped up, searched the sky for the source of the sound, while instinctively ducking her head. She knew that noise.

_Shit._

"What was that?" Glover had paused what he was doing and was watching the sky as well. If he didn't recognize a dragon's voice, she thought, then this must be first time one of the beasts paid Raven Rock a visit. For some reason, she had assumed the dragons' territory was limited to Skyrim and they wouldn't bother her here – but if course, it was nonsense that a flying creature would acknowledge man-made borders. Apparently, there was no way to escape them.

_Shit, shit, shit._

The last time she had been forced to fight one of the beast, things had not… ended will. Not only had she dislocated her shoulder, no, on top of that her body had absorbed some kind of weird power - a _dragon's soul_, what in Oblivion was that supposed to mean, anyways? - that had left her on edge and insomniac for the next three days. And then the Jarl of Whiterun had summoned her, and instead of throwing her in prison as she had expected, he had informed her she was some kind of_ legend_. She, of all people, a mercenary with the habit of getting herself into drunken brawl for no reason, a thief with loose morals who generally didn't give a fuck about other people, except in those moments when Vilkas crept into her head and reminded her of all the lessons he had so generously beaten into her sorry ass.

_Yeah, I'm a fucking hero, alright._

What it came down to was that she really wanted to encounter a dragon again.

However, running was hardly an option right now, at least none she would be able to live with afterwards. Cursing inwardly, Ysabel pushed herself from the column she was leaning on and made a step away from the smithy, to look past the wooden canopy. In the distance, the creature was a dark shadow in the clouded sky, still about a mile south from Raven Rock, but it was clearly headed in their direction and it came closer with increasing speed.

By now, the Redoran guards had noticed it as well and begun to ready their bows. Their shouts echoed over the market; at first, people only froze in place and stared, before the dragon suddenly cast a large shadow on them when it circled over the town and uttered another ear-shattering roar. Panic-fuelled, people started to clear the open space, almost running each other down in the attempt to get to safety; still, curiosity caused many of them to stay under the small projecting roof of the houses, and watch as the guards let loose a volley of arrows, most of which missed the dragon by a country mile. This way, they would never get him down to the ground. It didn't stand still in the air long enough for them to hit.

Glover had risen to his feet and attempted to pull her back under the canopy for cover but she brushed his hand away, never taking her eyes of the creature.

_Alright, woman. Make a decision… One… two… three… _

There was no time to think this through, and while she was well aware that whenever she decided something with gut instinct, she ended up stuck in a crazy and dangerous situation, things usually turned out fine in the end.

Usually.

So Ysabel did what she did best: act on the first thing that came to her mind. She grabbed her weapons, and took off, ran past the abandoned building, along the street towards the strange stone formation Glover had warned her about, ignoring him yelling after her: "What in Oblivion are you doing?" As if she knew that… What she did know, was that she couldn't let the dragon turn the town to ashes. Especially not with herself still inside it.

This was all Vilkas' fault, she thought angrily. She never should have stayed with the Companions for so long. If the man hadn't beaten - literally - a sense of honor into her so often, she wouldn't be in this situation. Things would be a lot easier for her, in general, if she felt a little less compelled to help. She should start acting more selfishly. Good idea. She would start with that tomorrow.

Because right now, she was doing it again, risking her life for a bunch of people she didn't even knew.

The dragon circled over the town, spitting a ball of fire down at the guards whose screams of fear and pain sounded through the village. She had to get it away from the town's center and distract it long enough for them to shoot it down. Once it was on the ground, it wouldn't be much of a problem for her but as long as the creature stayed in the air, she had no chance at all.

When she turned around, the dragon flew a circle over the cliff behind the town, turned and was now gliding towards her. Now all she had to do was get his attention.

_Oh, great…_

"Oi!" Hopping onto the rocks on the side of the street, she began to wildly wave her arms, and yelled at the top of her lungs. "You overgrown lizard! Over here!" The Redoran guards turned around and stared at her like she was some kind of madwoman but her behavior had the intended effect: The dragon was headed towards her and when she didn't run away, decided she would make a nice dinner. It hovered in the air above her, and she saw its jaws open.

"Shoot the wings!", she shouted before she rolled to the side at the last moment, flames leaking at her clothes. At the last moment, she got to her feet again, only to jump out of the way of another ball of fire.

Arrows flew and pierced into the creature's leathern wings. It roared furiously, pushing itself higher into the air to avoid the attack but she knew it had picked her as a target now when it circled back and stood in the air once again to breathe fire again. "Shoot it!" This time, the guards were prepared. Ysabel, on the other hand, had to throw herself flat down on the ground to avoid the flames; the impact knocked the air out of her lungs, a rock cut open her cheek, and when she gasped for breath, she inhaled a cloud of ash.

_Better than being fried to a crisp, though._

Still on the ground, she dared to glance up to the sky. Her plan had worked. The dragon howled, clearly in pain now (at least, Ysabel hoped so), his wings shredded by another charge of elven arrows; it through his head back, desperately trying to get away once again. It came as far as the high cliff before its wings finally gave in, and it tumbled and came down, crashing with a loud, thudding sound to the ground at the top of the mountain behind the settlement. There was a moment of absolute silence; everyone held their breaths and stared up to where the dragon had landed involuntarily.

Then, a wild, furious howl.

In her mind, she heard Vilkas' voice growl at her. _'If you can move your limbs, get up. You're not getting paid for lying around all day.'_

Right. It wasn't over yet.

She picked herself up, groaning when her aching bones protested, and ran past the town's center and the guards who were still baffled, to the small path up the mountain. The loose earth slid away under her feet and she almost fell down. With gritted teeth, she finally managed the climb, crouched down low to the ground to get nearer to the beast. It had left a long drag mark in the earth and was now flicking its tail and furiously spitting fire at its surroundings. When she accidently stepped onto a dry branch, it yanked its head around and roared at her.

_Damn it._

No way back now. She rose, drew her swords in a fluid motion and charged at the beast. If her luck had finally run out, the least she could do was to die an honorable death.

* * *

As if seeing a beast like this for the first time wasn't enough, his fellow thief had run off, and Glover was sure he was dealing with a lunatic here. After a while he had realized, she actually had a battle plan – or something like that. Only that she didn't do the most sensible thing after the dragon had crashed – which was to let the guards handle it – instead, she'd taken off up the cliff. She really was completely and entirely crazy.  
And then she came back and though she'd obviously been victorious, though the town folks cheered at her, though she was seemingly unharmed except for a few scratches, she acted all strange. There was nothing left of her usual humorous spirit. She was distant and dismissive, almost as if she was in shock. When he asked her what exactly had happened, she shrugged him off, only gave him her weapons to clean and sharpen. "I need a drink", she mumbled with a hoarse voice and walked away, hands in her pockets, shoulders hunched.

Something was wrong.


End file.
